Why Not?
by stopsendingmyboystowar
Summary: With the help of Lucifer, Sam becomes a serial killer. But when a child enters the mix, what will Sam do?
1. Chapter 1

"Sweetheart, you did great; there's no need to cry," he crooned. "She didn't even see it coming, so why does it matter that it's a little messy?"

"I wanted to impress you, and now there's blood everywhere. That's hardly impressive," Sam sniffed. This was his first kill and he messed up; big time. She definitely saw him coming, Luci just lied to be kind. And the blood was everywhere! "A little messy"? More like crime scene messy. Which, Sam guessed, it was now.

"Alright Sam, we've got to get going. Collect your knife; you don't want to be leaving clues around," Luci said.

He had already picked up the knife and was just cleaning the blade on the woman's shirt when he heard it. The sound was horrid; labored and grating it shook Sam to the core. He dropped his knife and looked up at Luci, pleading and horrified.

"Pl..ease…"

Sam looked down at the woman in front of him. Her radial arteries had been cut vertically through, he had made sure of that. Along with the puncture wounds in her abdomen and the jugular vein that Sam had sliced, she shouldn't even be breathing, let alone _talking_! So why was this woman still alive?

"Oh, shit," Luci muttered.

"No," Sam whispered.

"Mommy?" a small voice whimpered from the doorway. Sam put his head in his hands.

"Mommy!" the small figure raced from the doorway and to its mother's side. The little one knelt beside his bleeding mother and took her hand. Small, silent tears slid down the child's face as he looked at his mother. The woman gave one final, shuddering gasp and fell silent. At this, the boy could hold it in no longer. He doubled over, loud sobs shaking his small frame. The boy cried for his mother over and over again as tears came streaming down his face.

"Dammit, Luci; I thought you said she didn't have any children!" Sam growled as he stood up.

"She wasn't supposed to! I don't know why he's here," Luci said ponderingly.

"I can't kill a kid! But I can't just leave him; he's a witness! What am I supposed to do?" Sam asked as he started to pace the room. Luci walked over to him and placed his hands on either side of Sam's face.

"Sam," Luci said. Sam continued his nervous muttering.

"Sam!" Luci barked. Sam jumped.

"It's okay. We'll take care of it. Okay? It's alright," Luci soothed.

"It's alright," Sam repeated quietly.

Luci turned to where the boy was supposed to be sitting and cursed. Hearing him, Sam looked up to see what was wrong. As his eyes met Lucifer's, a loud cry came from behind him. He looked down just in time to see the young boy plunge a knife into the back of Sam's leg.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam gasped as he looked down at the blade in his thigh. The boy stared up at him defiantly. Sam growled as he pulled the knife out and started towards the boy, weapon raised. The boy whimpered, but he stood his ground, making Sam falter. He looked over to Luci, who nodded his head. Having been reassured, Sam continued advancing towards the boy. Seeing a big man with a big knife coming towards him very quickly broke the boy. Screaming, he fell down, and scrambled frantically backwards. When he hit the wall behind him, silent tears started streaming down his face. Crouching down, Sam could finally see what the boy looked like. He couldn't have been more than eight, with dusty blond hair, and a square face splattered with freckles. Sam shook his head.

_No, it can't be. It can't be, _he thought. He raised the arm that held the knife, hoping to dispel the thoughts that made his stomach turn. It was then that he saw the bright green eyes that shone with tears.

"No," Sam whispered


	2. Chapter 2

"Shit," Luci muttered again.

Sam dropped the knife and took the boys face in his hands.

"What is your name?" Sam demanded.

The boy whimpered and shook his head.

"Sam, wait," Luci started to say.

"What is your name?!" Sam yelled. He had had enough of this game. First the messy kill, then finding out that she had a child, and now this child had _his _eyes. This was enough. Sam crouched down so that his face was right in front of the boy's, and said,

"Your. Name."

The boy whimpered again and closed his eyes. Finally he managed to breathe out,

"Cain."

Sam glanced back at Lucifer, but the only advice he could offer was a shrug of his shoulders.

"Alright, Cain," Sam said, turning back to the boy, "why are you here?"

Cain glanced over at his mother's body and said,

"Daddy left me with Mommy for the weekend. He said it was just for the weekend, he said he'd be back soon." With this last sentence, more tears dripped down from his eyes. Sam could not understand those eyes; he'd only seen the bright green one other place.

"Cain, it's Wednesday; why isn't your daddy back yet?" Sam asked with fake kindness.

"I… I don't know-oh," Cain sobbed.

Sam tilted head in mock sympathy and drew his eyebrows together as if in confusion. There came a hard click from the door way, and grabbing his knife, Sam stood up.

"Sorry I'm late," said a gruff voice, "I was hunting."


	3. Chapter 3

"You were _hunting,"_ Sam drawled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Sammy…" the man said as he stepped through the door. Tall and muscular, he looked like he hadn't aged a day, while at the same time looking a hundred years older. His hair was the same dusty blond, but graying at the temples. His eyes seemed greener than ever, and thinking back to the boy, Sam knew that he was his father.

"Hello, Dean."

"Daddy!" Cain called, running up to his father and hiding behind his bow-legs.

"Hey buddy," Dean said. "You miss me?"

In response, Cain nuzzled his face into the back of Dean's knees.

"Aw, how touching," Sam heard Luci say from the corner where he was leaning.

Sam's cheek twitched from the comment as he tried not to look in Luci's direction.

"So, Dean," Sam said, ignoring Lucifer. "What were you hunting?"

"Oh, you know. The usual salt-and-burn," Dean said nonchalantly, as if picking up a conversation that ended a few minutes ago instead of many years.

"If it was a salt-and-burn, why did it take five days to finish? You must be getting rusty in your old age, Dean," Sam teased.

"Me? Rusty? You must be going blind, Sammy," Dean shot back.

"Daddy?" Cain said from behind Dean's knees. "Why do you keep calling the man who killed mommy 'Sammy'?"

For the first time, Dean let his eyes drift across the dismantled room; taking in toppled chairs and shattered dishes, he wondered why he ever thought he could live so long without something like this happening. He knew it was inevitable, but he wanted to try. God, did he want to try. Finally, his eyes settled on the body near Sam's feet and he closed his eyes slowly, but then squished them shut tight.

"What're you doing here, Sammy?" Dean sighed, "Last time I heard, you were in Detroit."


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh yes, Detroit. I was, but Michigan got a bit too boring for me. You know I can't stay in one place for long," Sam explained.

Dean sighed, understanding the reason why Sam felt the need for this jab.

_What happened to you, Sam? _Dean thought, _Where did my little brother go?_

Cain whimpered softly from behind his father's legs, reminding Dean that the blood spattered room was no place for a child.

"Well Sammy, it was nice seeing you again, but I gotta get going. Maybe we could meet up sometime, catch up," Dean said in that false happy voice of his.

"Alright, Dean. Coffee sometime?" Sam snarked.

"Yeah, coffee; sounds good," Dean said, moving himself and Cain towards the door. Cain shuffled silently behind him. Sam sheathed his knife and moved aside to let them pass through the door.

Even though they were outside and away from Sam, Cain still clung tightly to Dean's ratty Levi's. Dean thought back to the days when he would've loved to cling to his father's jeans in fright. Only, if he had, John would not be as comforting as Dean was being.

Dean was heading towards the garage; a quick walk from the house. But Cain was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and he slumped to the ground behind Dean.

"Cain, buddy, we can't stop now, c'mon," Dean cooed.

When Dean realized that Cain wasn't getting up anytime soon, he bent down and scooped him up. Cain, only barely awake on the ground, fell asleep immediately in his father's arms. With Cain safe, Dean was up and jogging to the garage. He pulled open the door and set Cain down on the floor, leaning him up against the wall. He then walked over to a covered car that sat in the center of the floor.

"I missed you, Baby," Dean said to the car and he removed the heavy canvas cover, revealing the old '67 Chevy. Grabbing the keys from a hook on the wall, Dean unlocked the trunk and checked the contents of the assorted duffle bags. Guns, bullets, and bags of salt made up much of the contents. Knives in sheaths, various hex bags, charms, and the occasional book took up the rest of the space. Satisfied that everything was in order, Dean started to close the trunk when he heard a strangled cry from the doorway. Dean froze. His hand slid off the top of the trunk and landed with a soft thump at his side.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered.


End file.
